#Hanukkah fic | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

commander-writergirl · 2 years ago

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Flames in the Window

Synopsis: Khonsu pulls Marc away for a mission, but for once you aren’t following him. And Marc has to make the tough choice: doing what Khonsu askes or spending Hanukkah with you.

Pair: Marc Spector x Jewish!fem!Reader, Steven Grant x Jewish!fem!Reader, Jake Lockley x Jewish!fem!Reader

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: light angst

Word Count: 2,080

A/N: not antisemitism allowed. Also please feel free to send me asks about the Moon System and their Jewish girlfriend hehe. Also I think the comics are influencing how I write cause it’s very different from the show.

Tags: @romanarose @softlybarnes

“What do you mean you don’t want to come with me?” Marc stared wide-eyed at you. You always went with him on his missions. But standing in the New York apartment he had moved into, you stood arms crossed.

“I’m not traveling with you on another mission. I don’t care what Khonsu wants, I’m not doing it.” Marc was surprised with how quickly you got your mind wrapped around the fact that Marc worked as Moon Knight serving an Egyptian God. But you were also very mad, and he was prepared for the jabs come Passover.

Marc walked over to you and rubbed your arms. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

You rolled your eyes. “Tomorrow is the 25th of Kislev.”

Marc raised an eyebrow, “No its December 3rd.”

You shook your head and sighed. “Hanukkah falls on the 25th of Kislev in the Hebrew calendar. Tomorrow is the 25th of Kislev.”

Marc sighed and closed his eyes. “Right.” He shook his head, “So we take a travel menorah.” Marc grinned at you.

You scuffed, “I’m not celebrating a holiday based on Judaism standing against oppression while you do errands for an Egyptian Deity.”

He had to give you credit. With how devoted you were, he half expected you to call him a hypocrite and break up with him when he told you about Khonsu. Khonsu even said you would leave because it would be the last straw. But you were still here, you still wanted to be with him, them.

He sighed, “Okay, you stay here in New York. I’ll go do this mission and when it's done, I’ll do whatever you want.”

Marc watched as the anger drained from your face and you looked down, “I want you to stay.” You whispered.

Marc sighed and kissed your forehead. He hugged you closely. “I know baby, but I have to do this.” You slowly wrapped your arms around his waist.

“Promise me, you’ll be back before the last night.” You looked up at him, chin pressed to his chest.

Marc thought over the timeline. He leaves in an hour. Hanukkah starts tomorrow. With travel and everything he’d be gone, five days tops. “It will be five days, tops. I promise to be back before the last candle is lit.” He smiled at you, stroking your cheek.

“I’m gonna hold you to that one Spector.” You stood on your tip toes and kissed him.

----------------------------------------------------------------

“We’re not getting back in time, are we?” Steven asked as Marc tried to track their target. He and Jake were becoming constant reminders that in two days Hanukkah would end.

Sadly, for Marc, he was in an area that had a Jewish population, and he was reminded each night that he was closer to breaking his promise to you. So, between his Alters and the universe, Marc felt like he was going to break your heart.

“Amigo, if we don’t get back--”

Marc interpreted Jake, “I know, I know.” Marc sighed. This wasn’t supposed to take this long, but given it was the holidays, Marc should have realized the target would be surrounded with family; including children.

“Maybe we could come back after the holidays.” Steven suggested. It was a thought Marc had been thinking about as well. If he came back right after, the target would still be here, and the family would be gone already.

“My son, you must finish this before leaving.” Marc tensed as Khonsu’s voice surrounded him. Marc dropped his gaze from the target.

“I made her a promise.”

“But without me, that promise wouldn’t exist. You owe me your life.”

Marc clutched his fists. Even though Khonsu was unable to show himself, he still made himself known. Marc knew what you would say that Marc has his free will. That it seems to be the one thing he sold when he took Khonsu’s deal.

“I have done everything you asked of me. Even when it went against my own morals. The target you want gone will still be here when I get back.” Marc began to pack his stuff. “I’m going home to my girlfriend to celebrate Hanukkah with her.”

Marc put his bag over his shoulder and began to walk to the ladder leading down to the side alley.

“This will cost you Marc Spector.” Khonsu said as Marc’s feet touched the ground.

“Well according to you, you already own me.” Marc grumbled heading for his hotel room to get his plane ticket to get home to you.

-------------------------------------------------

You stood cleaning out the wax drip from the night before to get the new candles in. It was the seventh night and each night you worried more and more that Marc wasn’t going to make it back in time. You trusted his promises but when it came to traditions, it was always hard to figure out what he was willing to do.

You sighed and began to set up the candles for the night’s lighting save for the Shamash. You traced your finger over the bird and flower design along the Hanukkiah body. It had become a tradition in your family to gift a new Hanukkiah on the first night.

You couldn’t bring yourself to open the one for this year as your parents had gotten it specifically for you and Marc.

You sniffled and pressed the heels of your hands into your eyes. You weren’t going to cry. It wasn’t worth crying over. You knew this was his life, that these were his choices.

You took a deep breath as a knock sound. You pushed your hair back and walked to the door. You opened it and came face to face with Moon Flowers and Sunflowers. You blinked at them before they moved to show you a pair of dark brown eyes.

“Hi baby.” Marc said shyly.

You blinked at him, “You’re here.”

“Yea, well I made you a promise.” He smiled lightly, “That and Jake and Steven would never forgive me if I broke it.”

You stepped back and Marc walked in dropping his bag and closed the door with his foot. You carefully took the flowers from him and walked to the kitchen. Marc following close behind you.

He looked around the kitchen as you set the flowers in water. He could see the remnants of latkes, you probably ate days ago with apple sauce, he guessed from the empty jar. And on the platter usually used for cake or pie, now sat sufganiyot.

“Oh, she made them at home,” Steven mused. All three could see that the sufganiyot weren’t uniformed and could see chocolate peeking out.

“Do you want one?” You asked after following Marc’s gaze.

“Maybe later,” he gave you a soft smile before pulling you to him. “So, what exactly did you make while I was gone?”

“Besides the sufganiyot where my Israeli friend kept on giving her two cents?” You smiled wrapping your arms around his neck. “I made Latkes, I tried Hanukkah honey balls-”

“Honey balls?” Marc asked as Jake snickered. Such a child.

“Fried dough covered in honey. It was actually pretty good considering I don’t like honey.” You giggled while playing with his curls. “I was planning on make some rugelach, but I started missing you too much.” Your smile fell away and you looked down. “I was worried you weren’t coming home.”

“Well, we’re here now.” Marc lifted your chin. “And you have us for the rest of the time.”

You smiled and held his wrist. You watched as his eyes rounded out and his shoulders relaxed. “Did you happen to make your famous challah, mi Vida?”

You bit your lower lip. Jake had slowly become obsessed with the challah you made. Maybe because you sometimes used honey and cinnamon instead of sugar and salt. “Sorry, I decided to go to services since my boys were gone.”

Jake pouted, “Well I guess you’ll have to make it up to us. I remember something about blintz?”

You rolled your eyes. You were going to kill your mother for introducing Jake to blintz. “Fruit or cheese?”

Jake gave a lopsided grin, “Surprise me.”

You smiled and pecked his lips before walking back towards the front window to light the Hanukkiah. Jake kept his hands on your waist the whole time. Once you stood in front of the table you had set up, you felt him tense behind you. “Marc?”

He hummed, “They just want to observe tonight.” You nodded and reached around him to dim the lights.

Marc looked around as the blue and white fairy lights stung up. That’s also when he noticed all the little things. There was a dancing rabbi animatronic, a few figurine bears holding dreidels and Hanukkiahs. He also noticed the living room table had a runner with varies symbols on it ranging from the Magen David to plates full of latkes. He wishes you could have been here to help you decorate.

Next Year, he promised himself.

When the smell of sulfur hit his nose, Marc faced forward again and wrapped his hand around yours that was holding the Shamash. He didn’t remember the prayers as clearly, so he listened to you and mouthed along as you both lit the seven candles; left to right, lighting the newest candle first.

When all the candles were lit, and you placed the Shamash in its place, Marc stood holding you as the flames flickered.

“I used to get the order mixed up,” Marc said. You looked at him. “My father would say, you set them up right to left and I thought that was how we light them, but he would always smile ruffle my hair and tell me we light them left to right. I used to pout cause it felt so simple and yet I forgot every year.”

“My dad used to fix me cause I would always get confused too.” You whispered, not wanting to break the ambience.

Marc kissed your forehead before nuzzling his nose with yours. “I promise, next year will be better.”

“Maybe we can even invite your dad?” You searched his face.

“Baby steps.” he whispered, gripping your waist.

“Baby steps.” you stroked his cheek and pecked his lips. “You did this with me and that’s a great step.”

He smiled, “So I noticed a box when I came in from your parents...”

“Oh yes they sent us a new Hanukkiah.” You said before moving from his hold and going to grab the box. “I didn’t want to open it without you.”

Marc chuckled, “They have high hopes for me sticking around, huh?”

You chewed on your lower lip as you sat on the couch. You weren’t going to tell him; it would be too much pressure. “I guess but let's enjoy it.” You smiled patting the spot next to you.

Marc walked over and sat next to you. You began ripping into the packaging and peeled the tape away. When you pulled it out, Marc blinked at it.

The Hanukkiah was glass fused with foiled gold and silver. You both realized it resembled that of a half moon. The candle holders were embedded in the glass, save for the Shamash which was raised to stand taller than the rest.

You handed it to Marc and pulled the card out of the box and opened it.

“To Y/N and Marc,

Chag Sameach! We saw this menorah while visiting family and thought of you two. Two halves to a whole.

We know Marc struggles with his Jewish identity but with you, our sweet Y/N, we know you will fill the other half.

We hope to see you for Pesach this year and wish you the best.

Much Love,

Mom and Dad.”

You folded the card up and set it back in the box before setting it on the floor. You looked at Marc to see his thumb rubbing against the body of the hanukkiah and a tear slip down his cheek. You wiped it away and pressed your lips to his cheek.

“I can’t believe, I almost missed opening this with you.” He gave a shuddered breath before setting the gift down and pulling you into his lap.

You closed your eyes as he nuzzled into your neck. You began to stroke his curls, letting one wrap around your finger loosely. “But you didn’t, and that’s the important fact.”

You worked to hold back your tears again as Marc sniffled. You two sitting in silence as the Hanukkah lights flickered in the window.

#moon knight x reader #marc spector x reader #Marc spector x Jewish!Reader #fem!reader #steven grant x fem!reader #Steven Grant x Jewish!reader #jake lockely x fem!reader #Jake lockley x jewish!reader #marvel #my fic #hanukkah fic #hanukkah #jewish representation #holiday season

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l3m0ncyan · 2 years ago

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New to Life | Holiday Special

Steven Grant/Marc Spector x Teen! reader

Masterlist

Summary: After finding out that Hanukkah brings bad memories to Marc and Steven, Y/N decides to bring the holiday back to them; but this time give them a memory they wont forget.

Note: If I get anything wrong about jewish traditions, please let me know!

P.S this is gonna be based off my series, hence the name, but Ill add a kind of recap in case yall don't wanna read all 11 chapters lmao.

—————————————————

Y/N stood triumphantly on a chair, staring at her decorations, as she hung up the last of the colorful lights in her apartment. The door unexpectedly opened, catching her off guard and almost causing her to slip. The chair wobbled, and she attempted to grab the back of it, but was aided by a few hands.

“Woah! I got you!” Marc held her up before she could fall.

She slowly climbed from the chair, regaining her balance. Marc crossed his arms as she returned the chair to the dining table to inspect her work. Y/N stood to the side as if she were being scored by Gordon Ramsey.

“Wow, you really went all out” He breathed out.

Each wall in her apartment had a light hanging from it. Garland was also hung around the room, and there were a few Santa and deer statues on the tables. To top it all off, she had a fake Christmas tree in the corner with a few gifts she had purchased for herself.

"Yup, that's my mission during the holidays. Anyway, what brought you here?" She bundled the decorations' packaging and quickly moved it to the trash can.

Marc examines the details of a ceramic Santa but puts it back. "I was just wondering if you wanted some tea that Steven thought you'd like."

She shrugs and nods, “Sure, let me just get my jacket”

She grabbed her jacket from the couch and walked over to her door. She bowed and motioned for Marc to go first. He rolled his eyes but continued, followed by Y/N.

Being across-the-hall neighbors was convenient because she or he didn't have to take an elevator or walk more than three steps to each other's apartment. For context, Y/N moved in a few months ago.

—

She was only 18 years old when she moved from California to London to attend her dream college. On the first day, she met Steven, who helped her in unlocking her door, which was difficult to do. Working with him in the gift shop resulted in her being attacked by a jackal a week later, bringing her and Marc together.

The basic gist is that she later assisted Marc and Steven in stopping a man named Harrow from destroying the world. On the way, she ran into their ex-wife, Layla, who had to return to Egypt to continue her archeology business', with the help of a certain goddess.

Something that may have gone unnoticed was that Y/N also gained an unusual ability. It was discovered that she had a symbiotic relationship with a symbiote. They are now known as Mania.

Anyways back to the actual story.

—

Marc opened the door for Y/N and set his jacket on a nearby table. The apartment's bareness was the first thing Y/N noticed. It was completely dark, as it had always been, with no lights or signs of color.

She sat at the dining table after following Marc to the kitchen. Twirling her thumbs and looking around, she noticed Marc's body tensing up before returning to normal. He smiled warmly and walked over to the stove to get a kettle.

He returned to the table and poured Y/N's and his cup of tea. She smelled the mug and an aroma of vanilla and cranberry as he slid it over to her. She had never considered combining those two elements until now. It was a good mixture though.

"There you have it, let me know what you think. I believe it will put you in the holiday spirit," Steven said with a smile.

Taking a sip, her eyes widened a bit, and nodded in approval, “It’s sweet, you made it yourself?”

"I did buy a few herbs and combined them. There wasn't much work put in," he shrugged.

She nodded, “You still did a great job” she continued to sip tea.

Steven sat across from her, taking in the time they were spending together. With winter approaching, the heat from the mug guided them in restoring their fingertips' temperature.

She continued to look around the apartment, still wondering why it was so colorless. "Something on your mind?" Steven asked as he set his cup down.

"Isn't Hannukah in a couple of days?" she scratched her head.

Steven paused to think, "I believe it is, why?"

"It's because I've noticed you two haven't exactly decorated or even talked about it”

Steven paused and thought for a few seconds. He had a melancholy look when he did. It seemed like he was thinking about a thought or a memory. He cleared his throat and went back to being his almost happy self.

"I've always spent most seasons alone, so when Hanukkah would come around, I never bothered in celebrating it" he gave a side smile.

Y/N nodded, "What about this year? You're not alone this time; you have me and Marc"

"Yes that is true innit," He looked up, "But I don't want to change your winter traditions just for me. Plus Marc isn't quite fond of the holiday"

"Why?"

"Well..." he trails and turns to a nearby reflection.

“Just turn down the question, she doesn’t have to know”

Sighing, he shakes his head, "It is nothing to worry about. Anyways, how about we finish our tea and get some rest?”

Y/N smiles and nods, still she was left curious on why the two didnt celebrate. Yet, that was something for a later time.

After they finish their drinks, Steven took her cup and his to wash it. She offered to help but he said how it was just two dishes so it wasn’t a big deal. Once finished, Steven told Y/N to bundle herself for the night before she left since degrees would drop. She thanked him and then went off to her apartment.

——

Back at her apartment, she changed out of her casual clothes and sat on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. She imagined various reasons on why Marc and Steven didn't want to celebrate Hanukkah. She was probably being pushy just thinking about it, but she didn't like people missing out on holidays.

Yes, they’ve only known each other for a few months, but that creates a bond. Doesn’t it? Especially when you die with them and come back to life.

She felt like the polar opposite of a Grinch or a Scrooge. She wanted them to take part in a celebration for the winter season. She just wanted them to be happy. Especially after everything that went down the last few months, they needed a nice change of pace. She sighed and hugged a pillow close to her side. She hoped she'd fall asleep soon before her thoughts consumed her.

“Why are you making a big deal of this”

Again, she hoped.

"Because it's depressing to think of them dealing with all that shit from Cairo and still not being able to do anything for the one time of year when people are happy," she continued, her eyes closed, feeling the cold bite her fingers.

“Then ignore them. Take pride that you can and they can not”

"That's what an asshole does, and we hate those kinds of people remember?"

“Right, then in invite them”

“They dont celebrate Christmas, they’re Jewish”

“How is that a problem?”

"Because they celebrate Hanukkah, dude you were literally right there when we were talking about it!" she became irritated.

“...What is the difference?”

“Good night!”

The symbiote stopped talking after she covered her head with the covers. Fortunately, the rest of the night was peaceful, and Y/N was able to sleep.

—

She asked Marc if he wanted to go shopping with her the next day. She described her plans for shopping for herself and her family back home. He agreed and followed her because he had no other plans. When he went out, he never looked for places to spend money; he just wanted to take a break.

Aside from that, he wanted to make make sure Y/N did not get into too much trouble. One time they went out, they were caught up in a hostage situation at a discount store. Of course, Mania and Y/N were there to stop it, but Marc and Steven had no idea it was them; they just thought it was some monster wreaking havoc in the city.

They still don't know about Y/N's and Mania's symbiotic relationship.

Y/N dragged Marc over to Westfield, a popular shopping mall in London, after hearing about it. Her gaze scanned the structure from bottom to top as she stood in front of it. It was more extravagant than the ones she had in California. The entrance wall was made of blue-tinted glass. However, it was linked to another building with large white bricks and a glass-covered portion sticking out. The words 'Westfield' were written in red slanted letters on the building's side.

She adjusted her tote bag, hoping it was just for show and that the stores weren't too expensive. As they enter, they notice that the building is two stories tall, with escalators leading to the top. Thankfully, she recognized many stores from home, such as Forever 21 and Hot Topic.

"Where to first?" Marc asked with his hands in his pockets.

She gestured to and walked over to a store that sold items for her younger family members. They looked around for nice but cheap gifts for her family, which was hard since it's been a while since she has seen them. Marc did his best to help her by showing her a range of items, but the majority of them were expensive. After battling through the crowds, Y/N purchased a few items and moved on to the next store.

The entire shopping experience had both of them wanting to pick fights or quit and leave. Marc was taken aback by the number of people trying to buy gifts for their families at this time of year though. Mostly because his own family never made a big deal about giving or receiving gifts around this season. So seeing all this movement was a bit new.

Because it was new to him, he occasionally let Steven take over. Oh, and Steven was having a great time as well. He never understood the hype of shopping or seeing things for sale; not just because of his lack of celebration but because he thought it was bizarre many would shove each other to get one item that was only a dollar less than its original price.

But here he was pushing people, apologizing when he did, in order to take a look at many things. A few would be for Y/N's family and some would catch his eye. When he did, he would reach in and take it back to Y/N to see if it was suitable. He would then ask her if there was anything they liked or found interesting and he would go on a search for something like it.

At the end of their shopping trip, each of them had at least two bags full of random items. As they made their way back to the bus stop, Y/N felt bad about having Marc lug all those bags but fortunately, they were able to go on the bus and rest.

——

They were still a few blocks away from the apartment building after exiting the bus. The chilly air however made them rush, so they would be home soon. Well honestly it was Y/N rushing him, she was new to the cold weather. Marc wasn't so much since he grew up in Chicago where it was cold normally compared to California.

"I don't think I've seen so many adults fighting dude. You saw those guys fighting for a controller?" Y/N almost breathed out the memory.

Marc gave a small laugh, "Those idiots didn't even get it at the end, some kid did"

"For real, also sorry about making you carry all that" She looked over at the large bags from various stores.

He shrugged, "Its alright, its better than seeing you trying to carry them all"

"Are you saying that for kind reasons or to make fun of reasons?"

"Both"

"Meanie, I bet Steven wouldn't laugh at my weakness. Right, Steven?" She waited for him to respond, but there was no response. She looked over at him, bewildered, but he wasn't there.

Turns out something caught his eye on a window display.

She walked back to him and noticed how his eyes were soft as he looked at the items. The only time he has looked at someone like that was when he talked to Layla. She followed his eyes and noticed a display with many Jewish decorations.

It had a blue cloth with gold lining on the table cover. A few dreidels and gold chocolate coins were strewn about. What drew their attention was the menorah that sat at the center of the table. It was made of gold and had nine candle holders. They contained candles with an ombre pattern of white to blue. Eight of them were identical, except for the one in the center, which had a Star of David on the stem. The main stem of the menorah that held the rest of the branches was inscribed with Jewish phrases. It was truly breathtaking.

"It's pretty..." she smiled.

Marc nodded, "...it is". His eyes were still glued on it, holding a sort of love for it.

"Whys is the center one different?" She looked over at him and he hesitated.

"It's a...shamash candle. It's to help light the other ones during Hanukkah" he pointed out.

She nodded, "You should buy it, Hannukah is close. Plus it'll add some color to your guys place"

Marc knew where this was going and he shook his head, beginning to walk away, "Next time"

Baffled, she looked at the menorah and back to Marc's walking figure, "Wait what?"

She ran up to him, gripping the bags to make sure they slip from her grasp, and looked for an answer in his eyes, "Why?"

"I don't have room or time for it, maybe next year" he continued looking straight ahead,

"You can make room, plus you don't even work for Khonshu anymore so you have enough time"

Marc ignored her and continued trying to make it home, giving many excuses like how he didn't have money but Y/N would then offer to buy it for him. It seemed like the conversation wasn't going anywhere so she walked in front of him and he skid to a stop.

"What is stopping you?" looking straight at his eyes and he seems annoyed.

"You can tell her, Marc. It'll be different this time"

"Why do you want me to?" his face wrinkled, trying to comprehend why this topic was still going.

"Because you're going to be all alone in your apartment and probably sad and lonely while everyone else is happy"

"Just tell her, Marc"

"I think I'll be fine," he moves around her to get through but she gets in front of him again.

"If it makes you feel better, I can celebrate with you! I can cook some stuff too and we can hang out at your place. Then you guys won't be alone-" Her smile turned as she was cut off.

"Why do you care so much?" He said rather harshly, "You're just a neighbor and a coworker for me and Steven"

Y/N inhaled deeply, feeling her body get a wave of a mental wound. It hurt, but it was true. She had no actual connection to the holiday or them, so why was she making such a big deal about it? It was his life, not hers, and he had the maturity to make that choice.

Marc's eyes widened when he saw her hurt expression. He didn't mean to say those words; it was a coping mechanism he used frequently. But now he was staring back at Y/N, who was looking at him with dejection in her eyes.

He immediately gave Steven control, forcing him to hide in the mind space. Steven looked down at her and smiled reassuringly, guiding her back on their way.

"He didn't mean it; as I said before, he is quite sensitive on the matter," he continued to hold the bags on the way back.

"...Am I being too pushy with you guys?" she looked down at her feet.

"No, it's rather very 'you' to be worried about small things like a holiday"

"It's not that small. Just tell me why?" She almost begged Steven. "I've told him stuff about my life back at the Field of Reeds when I needed to, and he listened. The least I can do is listen to his too, he doesn't have to hold it all in"

Steven thinned his lips and looked at the passing mirrors on her side. Marc's reflection returned a guilty look to Y/N. He knew she wouldn't mind him talking about his childhood, but he didn't want to add that weight to her shoulders. He also didn't want her to change the way she acted around him.

“…that will have to be a different topic for a different day. How about instead we focus on how your family will react with these gifts” he gestured the bags to her, trying to get a smile out of her.

Seeing what he was doing, she obliged, “uh yeah”

“Atta girl, now I think that with just a few bows and whatnot, and you’ll have amazing looking presents” he continued babble about her family and decorations.

All Y/N could do was listen, she was still a bit sad that they both didn’t trust her in sharing their past. It made her wonder if she was trying to force this closeness too far.

—

Before Y/N could tell Steven good night, she made sure that Marc also heard it from her.

“Hey Marc, you might be angry with me or something but good night dude” she waved at Steven.

He smiled and gave a small nod before going into his apartment. Closing the door, Y/N looked at her apartment and at all the Christmas decorations. Currently, she was still sensitive to what Marc told her. She knew he didn't mean it but it still hurt.

She sat on her couch and looked up at the ceiling, recalling how the two looked as they brought up their Jewish holiday. It was the same way she looked whenever she remembered the day her grandfather died or when her mother yelled at her cruelly. It was like their perspective of Hanukkah was one similar. Where something horrible happened that day, that has been engraved in their minds.

She felt almost like a cartoon character as she felt the lightbulb in her head go off. If they hadn’t celebrated, that means the last image they have is of something terrible. So why not try to replace that image with one more positive?

She took out her phone and began researching the holiday and a few traditions. What the menorah symbolized. How to play dreidels. Ways to cook Jewish foods. And the types of decorations that some families use. She looked up family vlogs of Jewish families to make Marc and Steven feel even more at ease.

Gathering all her information, she began planning the surprise for Steven and Marc.

The next day, Y/N spent it by buying ingredients and a few decorations that were in blue and white. Back at her apartment, she began practicing in cooking the meals and wouldn’t come out until she perfected them. At times Steven would call to check on her, seeing that she has been locked away in her flat. All she would say is that she was fine and that she was just getting a few things ready for the holidays.

However, the boys were concerned because she hadn't been seen all day. Marc, in particular, believed she was angry at them and refused to speak to them. Steven would reassure Marc that it wasn't the case, but Marc was already convinced.

"Mate, Y/N isn't mad at us. If she was, she would have cursed at us long before we ended the conversation," Steven joked, attempting to cheer Marc up.

"…Maybe," Marc would say before disappearing into his headspace, where he would continue to think of ways to apologize to her.

As the sun began to set, Y/N gave one last look before patting herself on the back. She had tried numerous times to improve the cooking and would continue to do so to see if they wouldn't kill Marc and Steven. She considered it a success because she was still breathing.

She was nervous about pulling this surprise because she didn't know how the boys would react. Will they be grateful? Or would they be furious with her?

They made it clear that they didn’t want to celebrate.

The only way to find out was to wait until tomorrow. The plan was to wait for them to leave their apartment, which they usually did in the evening to go for a walk. With them gone for at least an hour or two, she had enough time to set everything up.

“You sure it’s going to work? What if they decide to stay in?”

“Then… I’ll ask them to bring me some supplies or something, I don’t know” she shrugged and began to put the decoration away in a bag.

“This is gonna go to shit”

“Thanks for the optimism”she said sarcastically.

———

It was the next day, and Y/N had spent it preparing various Jewish foods. The whole apartment was filled with a mixed aroma of sweet and savory. She wrapped the trays in foil to keep them warm until the time came. She looked up decorating ideas and built inspiration as she waited for the time to come.

She waited for the man across the hall to open his door and leave, as he did every time. She peered through the peephole when she heard the door close and saw Marc walk towards the elevator. She waited a few moments to make sure he didn't return, which he didn't.

As he walked away, he appeared to be deep in thought; perhaps she had caused him to have flashbacks of those bad memories. Or, hopefully, he was thinking about enjoying the holiday and went to do some last-minute shopping. Not to worry, she had it covered.

"I think it's neither of those, especially the second one"

"Shush"

She began gathering the decorations and making her way to their apartment once she was certain. They got in by having Mania open the door from the inside by slipping under the space between the door and the floor. Y/N took in her surroundings and mentally mapped out everything.

“Okay, okay, this should be easy” she breathed out.

———

The sun had set after an hour, and Marc was on his way back to his apartment. Going out was routine, but he needed to this time. He wanted to get something Y/N as an apology. He didn’t know how, he couldn’t even apologize to Layla for what he did to her. Normally, giving flowers worked, but he knew Y/N wasn't into that sort of thing, and it would be strange to receive a bouquet from a man twice her age.

Instead, he got her a bag of things she liked as a peace offering with the help of Steven. It was filled with her favorite snacks and a few items from her favorite shows, such as a t-shirt and mug.

Marc walked to the elevator after opening the complex's entrance. As the elevator climbed the levels of the building, he breathed in and out to try to relax. He was nervous because he was afraid she would yell at him or refuse to open the door for him.

“Marc, she isn’t one to hold grudges, I think... I’m sure she is over it”

“You don’t know that. She hasn’t talked to us since we went to the mall. I shouldn’t have said that, maybe I should have told her or just taken the offer” Marc gripped the bag and stared at the floor.

He stepped out of the elevator and walked to Y/N’s door. He stood there for a second before knocking. Waiting for a sign, he knocked again but there was nothing. Swallowing heavily, he knew she was upset and didn't want to open the door. She was probably on her bed, her eyes puffy from crying herself to sleep, thinking about his comment.

He didn’t want to force her to open the door, so he turned to Steven and his place. As his hand moved to the doorknob, he heard shuffling inside and his senses went up. He remembers he locked the door, he could even ask Steven, he was there.

It went smoothly when he gave it a turn. He slowly opened the door, taken aback. He was tense and ready to fight anyone who charged at him, but no one did.

Instead, he noticed blue and white streamers dangling from the ceiling. He moved slowly through the apartment, ending up behind Gus' fish tank. He noticed Steven's desk, where he used to read, had been cleaned up, and there was a blue table cover. It had a white table runner with the Star of David symbol on both sides.

Paper dreidels hung from the ceiling, and white lights illuminated the area. There were a few dreidels and a lot of golden chocolate coins on the desk.

The menorah Marc saw in the window display, however, was in the center. The one with the nine candles and the engraving at the bottom.

The whole set was in front of the window that overlooked the street. Where pedestrians walked by and admired the display from afar.

He gazed in awe before turning around to face Y/N. She wore a navy blue long-sleeve turtleneck with black jeans. She was carrying what appeared to be latkes. She smiled nervously and gripped the tray, not wanting to drop them and create an embarrassing memory.

“Surprise!”

Marc just stood there, still staring at her which caused her to almost shrink. He was maybe getting ready to yell at her.

"Yeah, I didn't know how you would react and I knew if I told you, you might have gotten angry or something. But I didn't want to keep you from the holiday stuff, you know?" She waited for a reaction.

"If your angry with me, I get it, just say the word and I'll take everything down and we don't have to talk about this ever again," she gulped. "Even if you don't ever want to talk to me again, I'll understand. You don't have to explain. Just say the word, and I'll-"

“He’s not angry”

Y/N paused and heard the bag he was holding fall to the floor. Her eyes trailed from the floor to Marc's face. Her eyes widened at his expression.

He had tears streaming down his face.

Layla was the last person who actually cared about Marc. She always seemed to bring the sun to him before and after they married. She would do small acts of affection for him, such as buying him something that reminded her of him or holding his hand when he was anxious. When they were together, he felt so loved and important every day. Nonetheless, he pushed her away at the end.

He pushed her away, believing that his existence would bring her harm and chaos. He argued that it was for the best and it was all for her happiness. After disappearing, he thought that no one else would ever show him the same affection. He even accepted it and contemplated his future in loneliness. That is until Y/N appeared.

The young adult was struggling to make sense of her life in London, but she still made time for him and Steven. Even after they saved the world from Harrow, she stayed by their side.

During lunch breaks, she would bring out two Tupperware containers filled with food. When looked closer, it turned out that she would make what the two liked. Steven was, of course, vegan, and he loved tomatoes, so she would prepare a vegan dish for him. Marc was vague but liked savory things like mushrooms or buffalo sauce, so she would end up making something he liked.

He'd always tell her she didn't have to, that sharing with Steven was fine with him. With that statement, he expected her to simply nod and continue serving Steven his customized food, saving her energy. But, no offense to Steven, she would say it wasn't fair to have him eat something he didn't like. She'd then have him eat his food while she ate hers.

She probably didn't think much of her words, and she probably thought it was normal to say. Nonetheless, it made Marc feel important.

Now she had taken time away from her day to incorporate his holiday into his life, even after his comment from a couple of days ago.

She most likely did her research and double-checked everything. She included a variety of foods, including sufganiyot, which he could tell was made by hand. Even some of the decorations he saw were made by hand. Aside from that, he realized she is very attentive to his eyes. Y/N got him the menorah that she somehow knew he loved. The reason why he was memorized by the menorah is that it was the same one he used as a child when his younger brother would help him in lighting it.

His brother always gave him the type of sibling love that made Marc miss. Because of his brother's death, he assumed that he would never receive that same affection again.

But here he was, in front of someone who made him realize he was enough. That he didn't have to be perfect and that he was fine the way he was. Even with all his flaws and fears.

More tears continued to pour and he tightened his hands into fists., sniffles coming from him. This made Y/N panic, thinking that she might have set off some horrible memory for him.

She hurried to place the tray on the small table Steven had, quickly apologizing.

"Don't worry, I'll put everything back!" She looked around for a place to begin.

Marc smiled and shook his head, giving one last sniff before pulling her into a hug. She stood frozen, perplexed by what just happened. His hug was tight like he was pouring all his gratitude and love from the past months.

"Don't," He pulls away and looks her in the eyes "Kid, you're the best thing that has ever happened to me. I'm sorry for what I said earlier. You aren't just some neighbor or coworker, you're my best friend and I want you to know that"

This time Y/N was tearing up which was followed by a few tears falling, "Man, you really got me crying,". She wiped her tears and sniffled, "I'm glad we're officially best friends, dude"

Marc softly laughs, ruffling her hair. She lets it happen, and that's when her eyes fall to the bag that fell, "What's that?"

"Oh, uh, I thought you were angry with what I said the other day" He picks the bag up.

"So you were going to ask for forgiveness by bribing me with stuff?" she raised her eyebrow.

"No...sort of. I got you-" he was stopped by Y/N raising her hands up to stop him from talking.

"Don't tell me! You can use the wrapping paper I have over there" She indicates a roll of white and blue paper with dreidel designs. "That's all I have left from wrapping your guys' presents."

“Presents?” Y/N motions to the stack next to Steven's desk. Marc follows her finger and discovers roughly 16 presents wrapped in the same paper as before. He approaches them and notices a few with his and Steven's names on them.

"Yeah, I saw that some families are trying to make gifts a tradition, so I figured why not make this," she said, motioning to the decorations. "A new tradition, if that's okay with you."

Marc smiles and nods, “Yeah that sounds great, I’d like that”

They spent the rest of the night spinning dreidels. Of course, Marc had to teach Y/N how to play first, explaining what each symbol meant. If the dreidel landed on the nun, she would get no gelt or chocolate coins. She'd get all of the gelt if it landed on the gimel. Hay means she gets half, whereas shin means she only gets one gelt.

For some reason, once she got the hang of it, she was getting more gelt than Marc. Each time she landed on a good symbol, she would hold a grin on her face. He asked her if she was using gum or something to make the dreidel land on hay or gimel, but she denied it.

"Hahahah! We are winning!"

That's when Steven entered the picture, and they were now almost tied. Marc was just baffled at how they were good at a simple game, it made him question his luck.

"No! Don't let him win!"

Finally, they decided to call it even and split the candy equally.

"We should just quit because if we continue, I know imma get all the gelt. I don't want to hurt your manly ego," she said as she shrugged her shoulders.

"Of course, I would have won the pot and you would have knocked everything off the table," Steven said as he sat cross-legged on the floor.

Marc and Steven tried the dishes made by Y/N after they finished playing. Her leg shook with excitement as she waited for them both to try the latkes and sufganiyot. Steven loved it, saying how she nailed it at getting the flavor. Marc, on the other hand, would mess with her and pretend to vomit.

“You’re an ass, you know that?” She leaned back in her chair, her arms crossed.

"Sorry, sorry, it's good…for the most part," he said quietly, prompting Y/N to kick him on the shin.

With all that done, they both moved to the menorah, ready to light the first candle. Y/N let Marc take the wheel since he knew the prayers more. He still hesitated but when he glanced at Y/N, he knew everything was alright. He started it off and soon Y/N joined in too, surprisingly pronouncing the words correctly.

Once done, with the shamash candle lit, Marc lit the first candle to the right. Marc placed the shamash candle in the center after it was lit and continued to recite the hanerot halalu.

When they finished, the two stared at the menorah as the small fire melted the wax. After about 30 minutes, they turned off the candles. Y/N remembered the gifts by he table and quickly grabbed two of them to give to Marc.

He blinked and carefully took the gift-wrapped box, as if it was so fragile it would break if he breathed on it.

Y/N bounced her feet and waited for him to open his present. He took off the lid of the box and paused to look at the inside. What he pulled out was a brown jacket with metal buttons down the middle.

"I remembered how your favorite jacket back at Mogart's got ripped up and how you were so devastated," she teased, "So I saw it back at the mall and I thought you'd like it"

"What the hell..." he said as he started putting it on to see how well it fit, and it was just like his old one, "It's just like my old one, but better! Look! It's even got more pockets! Thank you, I love it" he said as he hugged Y/N.

Steven then switched in and he looked at her, “I might sound like a child, but me next” he clasped his hands together.

She smiled and handed him his, and he didn't wait long before he began ripping it open. He was right, he was acting like a kid. What he pulled out was a deep brown leather messenger bag.

“Again, your bag was kinda destroyed by that jackal back when and you needed a new one. Plus you make it work” she gestured to the present.

"I love it!" he said, extending the bag away from his face with an open grin. "Oh, this leather will definitely keep water at bay. Thank you very much, Y/N."

She smiled proudly as Steven also went in to give her a hug.

Marc and Steven then wrapped one of her gifts and presented it to her. She pulled out a t-shirt from her current favorite show. She squealed and put it on right away to see if it fit.

“This is fucking cool!” She stretched the hem out to see the front image clearly.

“I’m glad you did, I helped Marc look around at that Hot Topic, you should have seen him. He was confused out of his mind” Steven laughed and so did Y/N.

“No I wasn’t, everything was just dark and gloomy”

For the whole week, Y/N would come to their apartment when the sun began to set. They would go and play a few rounds with the dreidel, eat a few latkes, and maybe have a conversation about the upcoming year. They would then follow the same routine of praying and lighting the candles. After Y/N would ask about what songs Marc would play and they would listen to a few while singing.

Later into the night, they would open the next present of the day. A leather watch for Marc and a gold bracelet for Steven were among the gifts they received.

On the last day, just when Marc was going to light the candle, he paused to think. That's when he turned to Y/N and handed her the shamash candle.

“Wait, you want me to light the candle? You sure? What if I burn the place down?”

He shook his head, “I doubt it, I believe in you”

Those words gave Y/N motivation and a sense of gratification.

Y/N took a deep breath and began slowly lighting all of the candles on the menorah, placing the shamash back in its place. She took a step back and gazed at the dancing flames that illuminated the small area of the flat.

They sat down to eat at the dining table after saying their prayers. Y/N ate her latke while talking. The conversation was about how she was excited about the new schedule for her next quarter of college, saying how there would be classes she actually liked.

Marc remained silent and listened as she continued to speak. He hadn't shared a holiday moment with anyone in years, let alone celebrated it.

When he thought of Hanukkah, the first thing that came to mind wasn't his mother yelling at him. The sense of loss and regret.

This time, it would be where Y/N rambled about her interest as she ate Jewish foods on Steven's wooden dining table. Where the feeling of comfort and love came.

They were just two people, with different lives, different backgrounds, and in different places in time.

Yet here they were sitting at some old apartment sharing a memory.

———————

Tbh, I had to make up some problem in order to lead to the lowkey angst at the middle. It probably doesn’t make sense, so I’m sorry.

Also let me know if I got anything wrong about Hanukkah. PLZZ

Anyways I hope yall are enjoying your winter break :)

Happy Holidays!!

PS: if you're coming from my series, the next chapter will be taking place after this holiday special. Meaning, see yall in January....? Idk, depends if I just want to write already.

Taglist: @itsjusspele @dustyinkpages @scoliobean @moonywritings

#marc spector x teen!reader #steven grant x teen!reader #marc spector #moon knight #platonic #steven grant #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #holiday #moon knight x teen!reader #hanukkah fic

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feverinfeveroutfic · 1 year ago

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hanukkahbingo 2023

Fic or Art/Graphic Title: alone in the dark, chapter nine: “Red Sky at Night” Author/Artist Name: josiebelladonna Fandom: Testament (Band) Jewish or Jew-Ish Character(s): Alex Skolnick (and how) Bingo Squares Being Filled: first night, menorah, candles, shamash, oil, light in the dark 🔥 Rating: Mature Warning(s): Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings Link to Work: x @aimmyarrowshigh

Though I still yearned for her touch, I was more than eager to head on out for some takeout and then a return to the house for the rest of the night. Granted, we had to move rather quickly given the flood waters outside of the house rushed along the sidewalks and overflowed the storm drains. But through the light of the porch light, I could tell that it wasn't as bad as I had suspected. It was merely a great deal of runoff that ran the other way, barring none of us actually hesitated in the storm drain for longer than a minute.

Christine and I took to the back seat of the car with her grandmother while her grandfather and Wendy took to the front. It reminded me of all the times we went out for Chinese food when I was a little kid at Christmas, and my brother and I cozied down together with someone, be it one of our aunts, our own grandmother, or one of our cousins. I gazed out the window and the little rivulets that ran down from the roof of the car, and I looked on at the porch light, which her grandparents apparently left on the day before when they had gone down to Carson City.

A light that never went out.

I hunkered down in the backseat with them and with my hands tucked into my pockets to better feel the warmth of my own body. Just one last bit of warmth before we made a huge splash into the storm drain at the bottom of the driveway.

“Wow, that's a lot of water!” Wendy declared.

“But at least we cleared it, though,” Christine’s grandfather pointed out as he shifted it into drive, and we rolled down the street.

No sooner had we reached the next corner up ahead when I could feel the twinges of hunger hit me like a baseball bat. I shifted my weight in the seat next to Christine, who kept her hand rested upon her knee. Her pinky finger was dangerously close to the side of my own thigh.

A part of me wanted her to touch me even with her grandmother right next to us just to show that we could have some fun even if it meant putting restraints on ourselves. In fact, I took a glimpse at her with nothing more than my eyes, and she turned her head a bit towards me so our eyes locked.

While the adults in the car were paying more attention to the rain and the drenched streets before us, we had a small pocket alone to ourselves. I glanced down at her hand rested there and right as she moved her pinky and ring fingers onto my own knee.

I knew it wasn't going to last, especially since as far as I knew, anyway, I could be going back home by tomorrow and I knew in my heart that I couldn't keep it up with her. But it still felt good to me, and I knew that it felt good to her as well.

Christine showed me her tongue and flashed me a wink, highlighted by the low light in the car. I cracked her a smirk and puckered my lips to her all merely to tease her in return. I gave my hair a toss with the flick of my head and she let out a nearly silent whistle as she turned her attention away from me and to the windshield.

Every now and again, her grandfather flashed a glimpse into the rear view mirror, such that I could see his bespectacled eyes in the reflection, and I was glad that we kept our hands firmly buried in the shadows. No way we were going to let anyone in that car know about us, or the fact that she liked to touch me. If only I could encapsulate my own baffling feelings as they swirled and whirled every which way and if only I could better explain the fact that she had a crush on me and I was thinking some things about her as well. But I couldn't: I could only ride the wave where it took me, and I could only relish the fact that my body was being loved and in a way that I wanted so much, even if it made me the one who rolled around in his own filth.

I was starting to get the belly of a chubby little piglet, anyway. I may as well relish the opportunity.

Soon, the red neon lights of the Chinese restaurant entered our view and I could hardly keep it in a second longer. I had barely eaten anything all day long, and I was eager to sink my teeth into orange chicken, beef with vegetables, and some spring rolls as well. Christine’s grandfather took to the spot a mere short walk away from the warmly lit front door, and I was amazed that the parking lot hadn't overflowed with more shallow flood waters.

“Okay, now the big question,” he started again as he tugged on the parking lever. “Which of us should go in? Because we're only getting the food and then going back home, I don't really want to eat in tonight.”

“I'll go,” Wendy volunteered.

“I'll come with you,” I joined in, as I unbuckled my seatbelt. It wasn't because I wanted to get away from Christine, but I didn't want to see Wendy go in there alone, especially after what her husband did to her and to me, too.

I climbed out and adjusted the lapels of my jacket, which was useless given the rain pattered down on my head like the biggest wet blanket ever. I closed the door and tried to not splash on the blacktop so much as I caught up with Wendy there under the awning.

“You okay?” she asked me over the roar of the rain.

“Oh, yeah. It's just—you know. Cold and wet.”

“Cold and wet and coming down in droves!”

I held the door for her and she bowed inside before me; I hung right behind her, and I ran my hands over the crown of my head. It wasn't that wet, such that I needed a towel, but wet enough to where my roots were already soaked.

We found ourselves in a cozy, brightly lit room lined with those dragons and fine porcelain; I lifted my arm up away from the lucky cat right by the door lest I knock it over. Oh, that fine silvery paint job with the red and black lining took me back to those nights as a kid eating Chinese food. Though my hair was wet, the mere sight of the golden light in the restaurant was enough to warm me up; I stood there next to Wendy, who hunkered closer to me as if to take in my own warmth for the time being. The golden light with the red paint job only made me hungrier the more that I dwelled on it. One of the waiters walked on by with a platter filled with egg rolls, fried rice, and kung pao.

It all smelled so good! And it all looked so good, such that I had a thought that I could eat all of the spring rolls in there if I wanted to.

“God, it smells wonderful in here,” Wendy said as she took a menu for us to look over together. “What should we have? This is going to be on me and my parents again, too, so—you can have whatever you like, Alex.”

“Ooh, I love my spring rolls,” I told her. “I like kung pao, too.”

“Wow, I haven't had kung pao chicken since Christine was born,” she confessed. “I completely forget how spicy it is, too.”

“It's not spicy if you avoid the chilis,” I pointed out to her, to which she chuckled.

“Okay, so spring rolls, wonton soup, orange chicken, kung pao, beef and veggies, and—fried noodles or fried rice?” she suggested.

“Fried noodles,” I said. “I like fried rice but now that you mention it, gimme some big noodles.”

“And that's all gonna be enough?”

“That sounds like a Skolnick family picnic to me,” I joked, and she giggled at that. “Really, we like going out on Christmas or one of the eight nights and getting a bunch of takeout like that. A bunch of takeout after a night we have brisket, no less.”

And it was a lot bigger than I was used to or what I had imagined for that matter as after we had thanked the kind people in there, we headed out of there with six bags, two in either of my hands and the wontons and rolls in her hands. I gave the two in my left hand over to Christine before I climbed in, and no sooner had I tucked the other two between my legs and buckled in when her grandfather fired up the car again.

“Good job, good job,” he told us as we pulled out of there.

“Oh, my god, that smells amazing,” Christine herself remarked.

“Yeah, I think I got my kung pao down here with me,” I said with a shiver and a gentle rub of my stomach. “I am so hungry to say in the least.”

And indeed, the ride back to the house proved to be a lot longer than the ride to the restaurant: the rain seemed to pick up the pace and there was a lot more water in the street from what I remembered. Or maybe it was because I was hungry.

Either way, every second away from the house proved to make me feel even more and more eager to have a bite of the spicy chicken nestled right between my legs. The clouds thickened and hung down even lower in all of their darkness right outside of the windshield, and I leaned back in the seat again and closed my eyes.

A hug from my mom. That was all I could think about once again, a hug from my mom and one from my dad, too.

I opened my eyes right as I felt her fingers on my leg again. I looked over at her with nothing more than my eyes, and Christine once again showed me the tip of her tongue. I squinted my eyes and puckered my lips again at her, to which she mouthed something to me right then.

I raised my eyebrows at her, but before she could repeat it, we rounded a corner and the porch light perforated the thick, menacing, low hanging clouds.

There was a light that never went out, and I saw it.

Her grandfather bounded into the driveway, and once again, with a huge splash from the river in the storm drain, but at least we made it back home.

We all climbed out of the car and rushed up to the front step: I was so eager that I reached the screen door and nearly lost my balance. Luckily, I caught myself right as her grandfather scurried up to me with the key to the house in hand. Once he had unlocked the door, I did not hesitate for a second. Wendy and Christine were right behind as I ducked into the kitchen and set the kung pao and the other bag in my hand on the table: they joined me, and soon the whole table was covered. I couldn't hardly handle it as I made my way to the upper cabinet for some plates.

“My goodness, so hungry!” her grandmother declared as she joined us in there.

“I really am!” I said with triumph and a plate in hand to her.

I could not be more excited to have some of that kung pao, either, from the nuts to the fact that it was more sweet than spicy—in fact, it was just the right amount of spicy. To have that plus the noodles and the rolls, followed by some vegetables, there in the living room as we lit up our makeshift menorah with the long match and the shamash again: I was happier than a pig in shit to say in the least.

“Would you dears like some coffee or tea?” Christine’s grandmother offered as she walked into the kitchen.

“I would love some tea,” I told her. “It would kind of... tie everything together.”

“I'd like some tea, too, Grandma,” Christine joined in.

“Count me in, too,” Wendy chimed in, and then they turned to me.

“Could you play us something, Alex?” Christine suggested. “You know, after we eat and all.”

“I'd love to,” I replied as I picked up some more noodles.

“You know, I know we have the power back on and all, but I really would like to watch you, too, though,” Wendy added.

“I think we all would love to see Alex play something, Mom,” Christine pointed out. “At least before he goes back home tomorrow.”

“You really think the airport's gonna be open tomorrow?” I asked her.

“It's totally possible,” she replied with a little shrug of her shoulders. “Everything flows downhill and it hasn't been that cold today, either.”

“True. Well…” I ran my fingers through my hair. “I'm gonna need some wonton soup to fuel me, though. I can't really focus on anything unless I'm sober or I got my belly full.”

“You and me both,” she said, and I swore she flashed me a wink right in front of her mother and her grandfather.

I helped myself to a cup of tea and a bowl of the soup before I headed back into the guest room for my guitar and my amplifier: I knew that it was raining hard enough that the noise level would remain in check in there, but then again, I knew how to keep it down. Or at least I was learning how to keep it all down.

I carried both into the living room and plugged in my amp behind the television. A few turns of the dials and I kept the volume and the level of distortion both down low.

“Oh, my,” her grandmother declared with a hand to her chest.

“Mr. Rockstar,” Wendy remarked with a chuckle.

“This was a song that I wrote with my band when we were first starting out,” I explained, nonplussed. “It's actually a very hard and fast song and sounds a million times better on an electric guitar, but... I reckon I'm going to slow this one down and jazz it up and make it nice and spooky for the first night. So, if you all don't mind, I would like some straight darkness in here.”

“I'll get the lights,” Christine volunteered, and she reached over and switched off the lamp next to the couch. Darkness surrounded us and I hunkered down by the door to the kitchen so I could have the best acoustics. It wasn’t going to be very loud but I needed to set a mood of sorts.

“I've got the kitchen,” Wendy added; soon the entire front part of the house was again engulfed in darkness, but this time with the makeshift menorah still alight on the hearth. I once again caught a view of the flickering candlelight on the bricks for that same effect as before.

“What's this song called, son?” Christine’s grandfather asked me.

“It's called 'Alone in the Dark.' A few years back, I watched a Miles Davis concert on TV and I knew I had to branch out from there and kinda… work some ‘mad science’ onto this one little number.”

The flickering light of the candles by the fireplace danced around the room like the tapestry of lights at a big metal concert. With the rain on the roof and the fact that Hanukkah had started without me over in New York, I really was alone in the dark right then. As my fingers glided over the strings and I locked eyes with Christine, I realized that I wasn’t. I had the candles to light my way, the flame of her short red hair to bring me back home, and the weave of the family before me as my temporary safety net. It also helped that they didn’t help their Christmas tree up as of yet, and yet I didn’t really care.

It was a touch difficult to do the train of the music without Chuck’s vocals or Lou’s drumming, but I had done it once before at a quicker clip and I was doing it there for the family. Light and elegant in comparison to the original version by Testament, which would perhaps drive these parents up the wall in an utter rage. It usually did, but it looked as though they were enjoying it.

Alone in the dark, but not entirely at that point. I had made a connection with the four of them there while the darkness remained over us.

A light in the darkness.

“That’s beautiful, son,” Christine’s grandfather confessed to me at one point. “It reminds me of a dark forest.”

“A dark forest of nightmares,” Christine herself added.

“We were alive during World War Two,” her grandmother explained, “and the thought of people fleeing from Europe still comes to mind when I think about it, too.”

“Years of horror only to hope for the light of day to surface again,” I said to her as I broke into my reinvention of the solo with nothing more than the edge of the pick and my index finger. “Sometimes I can’t believe I’m doing this with nothing more than my fingers and without my metronome.”

“You have a metronome?” Christine asked me, slightly intrigued.

“Absolutely, I don’t go anywhere without it. But I wanted to flex a little.”

“Flex those fingers and those iron-clad arms of yours,” Wendy remarked with a slight flick of her eyebrows.

I reached the end of my solo and launched into the main melody of the song once again. It was right then I yearned for a glass of wine at my side. The tea proved to be enough for me, but the mood needed some more depth to it, the taste of the grapes on my tongue and the loose feeling within me.

But I reached the end of the song and the four of them treated me to some applause.

“Beautiful!” Wendy declared. “We should do this every year.”

“Fly from the Bay Area with a stopover here in Reno just prior to the first night of Hanukkah? It could work.” I shrugged my shoulders and showed her a smile. I tucked the pick into the strings at the neck and set the guitar down on the floor next to me. “I’ll be right back, I have to use the bathroom.”

I stood to my feet and wandered back down the hallway to the bathroom. Christine’s voice caught my attention before I shut the door, and I lingered before the bowl for a quick fix.

Once I was done and I washed my hands, I stepped back out of there, only to be greeted by her hands on my chest and her face before my own.

“Can I kiss you?” she whispered to me.

“Of course,” I whispered back, and she pressed her lips to my own. Christine moved with such firmness and conviction against me, and yet she touched me so gently that a shock of a chill shot up and down my spine like the pull of a zipper. She let go and gazed into my eyes with a soft whimper emitted from her lips.

“Wow,” I breathed. “So good.”

“Hot?” she whispered to me.

“Quite. Hotter than the kung pao, if I’m honest.” I ran my fingers through my hair again, and she bestowed me with another kiss, that time on the side of my neck. The soft, silken caress of her lips was enough to make my pants a bit tighter. All things aside, I may as well let go for what time I had left there in the house with them.

“God, so silky,” I whispered to her. A second kiss on my neck, and then she ran her fingertips down my side before she stepped away.

I was going to spend the night with her again, that was for certain. She stepped into the guest room and picked something out from there. I licked my lips and followed her back into the living room.

I needed a drink right then, but then again, I also needed a few things. Christine sat there across from me with her hairbrush in hand, which she swept across the crown of her head: her red hair flashed like the light of a sunrise following a rainstorm. I gently plucked at the strings for a piece of wandering background music for her.

“I love how groovy your playing is, Alex,” Wendy remarked. “It’s kind of sensual, actually.”

“It’s what I get for being obsessed with melodies,” I retorted with a quick raise of my eyebrows.

Every so often, she glanced over at me with a slight hooding to her eyes. I had a feeling that she was eager to climb into bed with me that night, and especially since it was nearly midnight by the time we all turned in for the night. I blew out the candles before I turned back to the bedroom, which was now warm from the furnace having roared to life.

I could finally take off my clothes without worry of feeling too cold.

I climbed into bed in nothing more in my underwear.

I waited for Christine to creep into the room, into the spot on the bed right next to me with her arms around me. I was showing my skin, after all.

But then I drifted off to sleep before I could even so much as see her in the darkness.

I woke up the next morning, wrapped up in the blankets and the bright pink light of the sunrise. She had never come into the room, and as far as I knew, I only had so much time left. I got dressed and headed into the kitchen for some hot breakfast before we left for the airport again.

“We’re just driving him to the airport,” Wendy had told her parents as we prepared to leave: but her mother insisted on joining us to see me off. I gave Christine’s grandfather a hearty handshake and a hug before I left for the car.

“Safe travels, son,” he told me. “Happy Hanukkah.”

“Thank you, sir—and thank you for the latkes and the hospitality, too!”

I climbed into the backseat of the car with my things and with Christine’s grandmother nestled right next to me. It was a cold, damp morning with an overcast sky, but at least the rain had stopped and we could drive, albeit with some caution given the sheer amount of water on the ground.

But the airport was open again, and I could go up to the gate, with my bag at my side and my guitar case slung over my shoulder. Her grandmother put her arms around me and held me close to her for a moment as I set my bag down on the linoleum next to me.

“Have a safe flight, okay, dear?” she asked me.

“Of course!” I assured her as I moved over to Wendy and her open arms.

“You’re a very sweet young man,” she added as she ran her hands up the small of my back.

“I try my best,” I said to her, and I could feel my face growing warm as a result. I moved onto Christine, who stood up on her toes to tell me something.

“Please visit us again,” she whispered into my ear.

“You know I will,” I promised her; I held her for a few more seconds, just so I had the feeling of her body right there next to me for a little while longer. A few more seconds only felt like a breath to me.

She had teased me the night before: it only made sense to do the same for her. I moved my hand down to the seat of her pants for a quick swipe: no one was looking, and no one knew how old she was, either.

“Enjoying that hug, Chris?” Wendy joked, and I let go of her right then.

“I think I might come back again next year,” I told her as I scooped up my bag and took out my ticket for a quick scan.

“Please do!” Wendy said. “We love you, Alex. Give your parents a hug for all of us.” She blew me a kiss and flashed me a wink before I picked up my things again and headed down the corridor to the plane.

There were only a few people on the plane, much to my surprise, but then again, I couldn’t be more relieved: I was about to go back home with only a few people around me.

“Another year without having my throat slit,” I muttered to myself. “About to go home and indulge in something delicious with my parents—” I put my bag in the overhead compartment again before I took my seat by the window. That time around, it looked as though I was alone there. No sooner had I taken my seat when I recognized the man across the aisle from me.

“Hello, son,” he greeted me.

“Oh, hi, Frank! How goes it?”

“Flying out to New York to visit my son,” he replied with a little smile on his face. “Hopefully, the weather will behave better on the way back.”

“Agreed!”

“Hey, would you rather I sit there next to you?” he offered me. “You know, just so you’re not by yourself?”

I glanced down at the empty seat next to me, and though it was a brief thought, I imagined Christine there next to me. Oh, to run back home to New York and introduce her to my parents. But I wasn’t going to risk it, however. Not when the numbers didn’t lie and I had to let her go for a time, at least until the next year came around and I could figure something out there to visit them once again.

“No, thanks,” I told him with a shake of my head. “I’ve been surrounded by people the last few days—I could use a little time to myself.”

“Oh, I get that completely,” he replied with a wink, and then he picked up the blindfold out from the pocket on the seat before him for a nap. Five hour flight with no stops, it made sense to take a nap at one point. I glanced out the window next to me to the clouds of the sky clearing out to reveal the bright late fall sunshine, bright despite the chill of winter coming for the western wing of the country. Even after the darkness, the sun always came out afterwards.

The candles still burned.

This actually turned out to be a great Hanukkah, after all, at least the first night of it turned out great anyway.

All I knew was my parents awaited me back home for the remaining seven nights.

#hanukkahbingo #hanukkah bingo #hanukkah #hanukkah 2023 #hanukkah fic #hanukkah sameach #fanfic #fanfiction #alone in the dark #as the seasons grey #as the seasons grey fanfic #testament fanfic #testament #testament band #alex skolnick #oc tag #also on ao3 #writing #text

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aggressivewhenstartled · 2 years ago

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Michelle Jones & Ned Leeds & Peter Parker Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes, Steve Rogers, Peter Parker, Michelle Jones, Ned Leeds, May Parker (Spider-Man) Additional Tags: Hanukkah, Hanukkah Fluff, Holidays, holiday fic, Menorah, Fire Hazards, sufganiyot, Excessive amounts of Sufganiyot, Latkes, Jewish Bucky Barnes, Jewish Peter Parker, Irish Chatholic Atheist Steve Rogers, Alien quarantine as plot device, Absolutely no mpreg I promise, or I guess sorry, depending on what you're into Summary:

“Happy Hanukkah,” Ned said. Peter could hear him typing, presumably pulling up classified medical documents from Mr. Stark’s system about the Diplomatic Space Incident the previous night. “You got…eight days of quarantine.”

“Aunt May is going to kill me,” Peter moaned.

“She’ll have time to calm down,” Ned said, trying to sound helpful. “You really got, like, two weeks. But eight days sounded funnier.”

#aggressivewhenstartled #stucky #fic #stucky fic #fanfic #hanukkah fic #hanukkah fanfic #jewish bucky barnes #jewish bucky #jewish spiderman #jewish peter parker

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oldfangirl81 · 1 year ago

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I wrote 911/DC Hanukkah chaos fic that ended up needing two parts.

Summary: Jason was trying to share tradition and impress Roy and Lian. Instead he ends up reuniting with a friend sooner than expected.

#my fic #buddie #jason x roy #Hanukkah fic #holiday themed

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doodleddaisies · 2 years ago

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"I guess that I just really want to make this year special for EJ because it’s the first time he’s going to be without his parents. He just deserves something good after everything he’s been through this year, ya know?” Ashlyn said.

Ricky did know. Next to Ashlyn and her family, Ricky was probably the closest person to EJ’s entire situation. He had been there to see EJ through all of his ups and downs. He found himself nodding along to Ashlyn as she spoke.

“Of course. I’m assuming you have something specific in mind.”

“Ricky, I believe we have just formed an alliance.” Ashlyn wrapped her arm around Ricky’s shoulders and pulled him into walking with her down the hallway as they began plotting how to give EJ the best Christmas he’s ever had.

Or: EJ is determined to have a good Christmas, even if it's the first one since he left his parent's house. Ashlyn and Ricky are determined to make sure that EJ has the best Christmas/Hanukkah/holiday season possible.

(Aka: EJ spends the entire winter break surrounded by the people who love him the most like he deserves)

#I did it #pls leave me comments I thrive off validation #yeah this was supposed to be 5000 words #it’s almost 16000 #so enjoy #this is my gift to you #caswen fic update #christmas fic #Hanukkah fic #caswen #hsmtmts #ricky bowen #ej caswell #ashlyn caswell #there’s some good ash content in here #bc it’s what she deserves

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barryallenisbisexual · 2 years ago

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Posting this here again 2 years later since it's Hanukkah. Happy holidays Blue Beetle people and happy Hanukkah to all my Jewish friends!

#blue beetle #blue and gold #dc comics #Hanukkah fic #booster gold #boostle #happy hannukah

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etchedstars · 2 years ago

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willel (real)

#overdue writes #hanukkah fic #stranger things #the overdue asteroid strikes again

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batty-writes · 2 years ago

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December 19th: A Festival of Lights

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43573279

Was so happy to participate in @snowbarryspot ‘s Holiday event 2022!!! Happy Hanukkah everyone! “Caitlin struggles with her first Holiday season after Ronnie's death, Barry recognizes her feelings and decides to reach out.“

#jewish barry allen #barry allen x caitlin snow #snowbarry #hanukkah fic #meant to add more hanukkah but did not #it gets it's point across though.

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phoebe-delia · 11 months ago

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For your eight nights of Drarry event, what about “I get drunk on jealousy.”

Drunk on Jealousy

And for the finale of Eight Drarry Nights 2023, I am honored to write this for @xx-thedarklord-xx. Sam, I hope you know by now just how much I love your work. Apologies that this is so late. It's been a rough week (shoutout to my discord friends for the sweet support! You guys are amazing). But I wanted to give this proper time, which I haven't had until now. So, without further ado, here we go! And, of course, Happy (belated, now) Hanukkah.

Featuring: a secret relationship, possessive!Harry, and a Draco who is determined to drive Harry crazy—in the best way—until he snaps.

At this point, I'm starting to think the pint in your hand is just for show. You've hardly touched it. I'd wager you're entirely sober.

You come to pub nights with our colleagues, every other Friday, yet you hardly drink anymore. Would you be surprised that I've noticed? When have I not noticed you, Potter?

I've seen you watching me. You're not being very subtle; if you want to keep this a secret, you're going to have to tear your eyes away from my arse. Not that I want you to, mind you. I always want your eyes on me.

Have you caught on to my game yet? You're an ex-Auror. Use your talents of deduction. I flit and flirt my way through the pub, talking to everyone but you, but it's always your bed I come back to, isn't it? Meanwhile, you stew and scowl and glare at me from the corner of the pub as if you don't know the foregone conclusion.

Silly Potter. There's an easy way to get me to end this; a quick, surefire solution to this self-inflicted torture. You'd just have to march over here with that big, tough Chosen One bravado, scoop me into your arms, and kiss me the way you usually do when no one's around. No one else would dare touch me again, and we'd finally be free from sneaking around. Win-win.

But you're trying to be a gentleman. You're trying to "give me my space" and let me bring our relationship out of the proverbial closet when I'm ready. It's admirable; very touchy-feely-sweet-Gryffindor of you.

But I've had enough. I'm ready for more. I'm sure you'd say that I could simply tell you. But where's the fun in that? It's much more entertaining for me to see you get all worked up, jaw clenching with every smirk I throw your way as I talk and laugh and flirt with other men.

Tonight, though, I think you've finally realized. Or, at least, you're going to lose it. I'm talking to—what did he say his name was? Greg? Thomas? I'm not sure, but it won't matter in a moment. You're gripping that pint like it's personally offended you; I'm almost afraid it's going to shatter in your hand.

From the corner of my eye, I see you all but slam it on the table, the drink sloshing a bit over the rim. While the rest of the pub is too rowdy to notice, your tablemates startle and look at you with alarm. But you're glaring at me. I just deepen my smirk and raise my eyebrow at you.

You rise from your seat, letting your chair fall over behind you, and stride purposefully over to me.

Good.

That's it.

Come and get me.

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feverinfeveroutfic · 1 year ago

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hanukkahbingo 2023

Fic or Art/Graphic Title: alone in the dark, chapter six : “Some Kind of Ghost” Author/Artist Name: josiebelladonna Fandom: Testament (Band) Jewish or Jew-Ish Character(s): Alex Skolnick (and how) Bingo Squares Being Filled: family, miracle, smashing fascists 🔥 Rating: Mature Warning(s): Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings Link to Work: x @aimmyarrowshigh

I was still shook up from the incident with Christine's father, such that my hands trembled as I brought the bites of latke and applesauce up to my mouth. Christine herself meanwhile never left my side as she indulged in her plate, and I could tell that she was enjoying it because it was humble and delicious while we were living in a cold house with no electricity and nothing better to do other than read books and play cards. She huddled up close to me but she never actually touched the side of my body, however. Though it was cold in the house, I started to feel warm again from the taste of those potatoes with the sliced and diced onions and the minced garlic. Though I had been jarred from my place, I still needed to eat, and I still needed to get back home to my parents, too. I blew on the next bite of latke before I slipped it into my mouth.

“How are they?” Wendy asked me.

“Delicious,” I said with my mouth full. “They taste almost as good as my grandmother's latkes.” I swallowed and took another sip of my coffee.

“Nothing beats Grandma's cooking,” she replied with a little smile on her face.

“Not at all! When I was a kid, my aunt and my grandma would also make my brother and me babka for Hanukkah, which he and I always loved. It was from there that I realized that nothing beats the real thing. Nothing beats the thing that came straight out of the home.”

“I think I've actually seen that at a bakery before,” she said as she took her seat next to Christine at the far end of the couch. “It's like a cross between a Swiss roll and a bread, isn't it?”

“Sort of,” I said. “It's definitely kosher in comparison to a Swiss roll, I would think, but it's more like... phyllo dough with chocolate drops, some cinnamon, and some melted chocolate rolled up and then coiled into a tin. We always like a little chocolate babka in our life.”

“We should make that at some point, Chris,” Wendy suggested.

“You've got chocolate babka, there's also cinnamon and apple,” I added. “Chocolate is the best, but I also love me some apple.” Right as I said that, I scooped up a bit of applesauce, which I could tell was sweeter than I was used to. But I wasn't going to complain.

“By the way, Wendy, is it all that flooded out there?” the grandfather asked her.

“Yeah, I've been meaning to ask you that, too,” I chimed in as I took another bite of applesauce.

“Actually, no!” Wendy assured us. “Although, I suppose it is elsewhere, but there's just some big puddles outside of the sidewalk. You know, you have to be careful walking along the storm drain because there are literal rivers out there. But it's not like immense flooding, though.”

“Plus, it's going downhill,” I added as I took another bite of latke.

“It's all going downhill, exactly,” Wendy declared. Christine then turned her attention over to me with a slightly annoyed look on her face.

“I hope this shit's not boring you,” she whispered to me.

“Hey, I would much rather chat about this than what happened with your dad back there,” I assured her.

“Oh, yeah, anything beats that, to be honest,” she said with a nod. “But you know, boring grown-up stuff.”

“You know, you're going to be a boring grown-up yoursself soon,” I pointed out to her as I took my last bite of latke.

“I kind of don't want to be,” she confessed. “You know, just because you reach eighteen years old doesn't mean you have to actually grow up and become boring.”

“You know, it's the funniest thing,” I told her as I set my empty plate down on the coffee table before me and I picked up my coffee in lieu of it; “I feel the exact same way. Who says you have to give up what you are once you've reached a certain age?”

And she showed me a smile at that.

It was right then I noticed that the rain had slowed down on the roof overhead.

“Is the rain stopping?” her grandfather then asked from the kitchen table.

“I think it is, Dad,” Wendy replied. I sipped on the coffee and the vagabond in me came alive right then. All the times that Testament travelled somewhere in the world or even there in the States, and the sheer sight of the hotel room all around me only made me want to go out and explore the town. Wendy then offered to take mine and Christine's empty plates, much to my pleasure.

“Thank you, Mom,” she said.

“Yeah, thank you, Wendy!” I added, and once again, I swore she flashed me a wink. I finished the rest of my coffee and turned my attention to Christine.

“Wanna take a walk?” I offered her.

“I'd love to,” she replied. “I have to get dressed, but I'd like to do that, though.”

“Go out and get some fresh air,” I added. “I have to find my shirt, anyways.” I couldn't help but chuckle at that, either.

Once her mom and grandparents were paying more attention to each other, she and I returned to our rooms for a quick change, whereby I found my shirt tucked under my pillow for some reason. But then I realized why and I couldn't resist chuckling again as well as wrinkling my nose and sticking out my tongue.

Once I had my shirt back on, I returned to the hallway and Christine dressed in faded denim jeans and a little black windbreaker.

“Shall we?” I asked her. “We shall,” she replied.

Once we told the three of them what was happening, we left the house and stepped outside to the gray morning. Though the place hadn't flooded like Wendy had said, small puddles still formed all across the yard, and the storm drain was one deluge away from overflowing onto the sidewalk as well. Nevertheless, we still walked up the street together, and I had a feeling that she was going to show me the stump.

“We go in the other direction and we'll be swept away by the flood waters,” she pointed out to me, to which I chuckled.

We reached the next corner up before we hung a right. The next corner up and we hung a left.

It was all so we could keep going uphill and away from whatever raging waters that came our way.

“I hope I'm not being too intrusive about it,” I confessed to her as the neighborhood around us grew much more overgrown with trees and bushes, all of which were dark and sparse for the onset of winter in the coming weeks. “You know my whole thing of 'I really don't want to impose on anyone'.”

“You're not being intrusive,” she assured me with a shake of her head. “Especially since he came after you.”

She fetched up a sigh and stared straight ahead: I followed her gaze to the veil of clouds over the mountains. We weren't far from the base of them as well as the sparse snow banks that capped them. At least it didn't snow that much.

“I love my dad but he's got his problems, though,” she pointed out. “He and my mom have separated, and he's still kind of raw about it. Then again, he should talk about it to me. He likes to drink, and my mom doesn't really like that he does that, especially in front of me. I remember one time he downed a whole bottle of gin over the course of a single day, and my mom was like 'no way' and she got me out of there. He's not a very good drunk, either.”

“I've known a few people like that,” I told her. “Where the members of my old band and I would have a drink or two and then we'd giggle and fool around and shit, there was always someone on the crew who would have a few too many and start yelling at us for no reason.”

“Exactly like that!” she exclaimed. “And it's always really scary to be around and watch right before your eyes, too, because you don't know if they're going to punch you or do something awful to themselves. So, my mom got me away from him for a bit but I wanted to be with him again because—like I said, I love my dad and I want to see him get better. So they split and I stayed with him for a whole summer before he promised me to stop drinking. When he did, I went to go stay with my mom, and that was when my own relationship fell apart and then I dyed my hair after that as a change of sorts. When he was at the door earlier, I could smell a little booze on his breath. I've grown up around alcohol enough to where I can smell even just a few drops of it from clear across the room. It also helped that the wind carried it into the house, too.”

“Oh, wow, I didn't even notice,” I confessed as I ran my hand down from my chest down to my stomach. “All I could smell was the latkes and the coffee your mom got for us.”

But she bowed her head a bit and looked down to the drenched pavement and the small rivulets in the storm drain below our feet.

“The first man I ever loved,” she said in a soft voice, and I tilted my head to the side at the sight of her there next to me.

“First man you ever loved and had a relationship with, too,” I added.

“All of that before my ex showed up, and before you showed up, too,” she continued it.

“He promised you that he would stop drinking—actually promised you—”

“Right to my face, too,” she added, and she lowered her voice to a near whisper.

“—and yet there he was, right there at your grandparents' house, just reeking of it,” I followed along, and she nodded her head at that with a crestfallen look on her face.

“Mmm, I wouldn't say he was reeking of it,” she corrected me with a slight shrug of her shoulders, “but I could tell you that he had had some to drink before he showed up.”

“Which means he also took off in his car after that...” My voice trailed off, and I shuddered at the thought of someone climbing behind the wheel after they had had just a little too much to drink, especially with that person being her own father.

She and I fell into momentary silence with our gazes fixed on the storm drain beneath us; all the while, I noticed a few circles along the surface of the water, and I could tell that the sprinkles were going to give way to even more rain after that. Though things were not very flooded at the moment, I knew that it was definitely a possibility, and I could potentially miss out on the first couple of nights of Hanukkah with my parents as well.

I then turned my head to the right, to the stretch of sidewalk that snaked up the street beside us.

“So, tell me,” I began again to her. “Where's this stump at? The stump of the tree that fell on you?”

Her expression never changed as she strode around behind me, and I followed her right at her back. The storm drain seemed to swell as we moved further along, and then we reached the next corner and crosswalk up before us. Across the street stood an old house that looked to be empty, and behind that was an empty lot entrenched in mud and large puddles that could probably flood a bit should the rain pick back up again. With a quick glimpse in either direction, Christine and I crossed the street, albeit with a hop over the rivulets in the storm drains.

She brought me to the corner across from us, and I looked on at the empty house. Something about it gave me a weird feeling in my stomach, as if something happened there before and I should be worried. But I wasn't worried, and I shook it off once we reached the empty lot, which consisted of nothing more than slabs of blacktop and patches of dark mud.

“It's right here,” she declared, and she brought me to the dead center of it all, barring we avoided the mud all around us and treated the blacktop as stepping stones instead. Indeed, there stood a large round stump right in the middle of the muck and the mud, one that was wide enough for the two of us and maybe Wendy, too, to have a seat on. The cuts on the stump had eroded with the passing of time, and thus, I knew she was telling the truth. I looked on at her and the thoughtful look in her eyes: the fine mist that fell over us left tiny droplets on the crown of her head accentuated the red of her hair. The gray sunlight around us washed out the color to her face, and her skin resembled porcelain as a result.

I gazed up to the gray sky overhead as I tried to picture that big tree that fell over on top of her. Those wandering branches as they cascaded over her, and the earth took her in its arms. To think that she had taken the path that she had taken, and she was still standing there on the sidewalk next to me. She continued to stand, with her hands in her pockets and the scars that she bore all to tell the world about it. If only there was a way in which she could overcome it and use it to her advantage, and I could tell she was on her way given how she liked to joke around with me and be all cozied up next to me.

I was more stunned by the fact that she had survived it all, and more so when I shivered from the wind picking up courtesy of the mountain slopes off to our right. The rain was coming, and yet the silence was all that we could do right then.

“An absolute miracle that you're here with us right now,” I whispered to her over the winds behind us.

“It really is,” she whispered back to me, and she extended one hand out towards me as if to hold mine. I swallowed as I extended mine to her own: her fingers gripped onto the side of my palm, and I let my own fingers curl around her hand. A chill ran up my spine right then, and something told me that it wasn't the wind.

“When my ex and I were together, I often dreamed of this,” she confessed.

“You never got to hold hands with him?” I asked her, taken aback, and she shook her head at that.

“Not even one time,” she said. “I would often dream of kissing him and holding him, just like how I did with you back at the house. But I never could do it. I could never find the courage to do that.”

“Why is that?” I asked her.

“Like I said, I just never felt good enough. I never felt like I was worthy of kissing him or holding him. I never felt like I could really tell him as to how I felt about him.” She nibbled on her bottom lip right then. “And that's why he's my ex.”

“So I should consider myself lucky,” I muttered. The rain picked up as the words left my lips, and Christine tugged the hood over her head with her free hand.

“We should probably get home,” I advised her.

“Yeah, I think we should, too,” she said. “I'm starting to get cold.” She squeezed my hand before she let go of me, and then she huddled up close to me. The two of us began to walk along the sidewalk, away from the empty lot and the swelling puddles there, and I hoped that the rain and wind wouldn't pick up at any point on the way back to the house. We reached the house on the corner, whereby I caught a glimpse of the dark roof and the trees that protected it from the elements. I spotted the witching window at the back and a shiver ran down my spine. We passed the two windows that looked out to the street, both of them as black as night, and then the corner of the house and the edge of the yard. All the while, I glanced back to it.

There was just something about the house that gave me such a weird, indescribable feeling, and it was one of those things that was going to drive me absolutely batty for the rest of the day if I did nothing about it. We reached the corner when I finally stopped, and I took a good long look at it. Christine stopped right next to me and closed her coat lest a gust of wind come up before us.

“I should probably tell you that my ex and his family used to live in this house here,” she told me.

“They used to live here?” I asked her, slightly stunned, and she nodded her head at me.

“Not for very long, like not even a year but—yeah, they actually used to live out here.”

I turned my head for another look at the house again, and I tried to picture what exactly happened there, especially since it was giving me such a weird feeling whenever I looked at it. Maybe it was the garage door and the way that it struck me as a little odd in comparison to the rest of the house: it was a yellow house with black trimming but the garage door appeared to be a slightly different shade of yellow, almost white.

Something off about it all.

“Did he or his parents tell you why they moved away from here?” I asked her, and she shook her head.

“I mean, I have a couple of theories—they hailed from New York and so, you know, maybe they just didn't like it out here. It's too much of a high desert where New York is more tempered.”

I had my doubts about that, however. I looked on at the house, at the awnings right outside of the two front windows that looked out to either side of the street given it stood on a corner, at the second floor, at the brick chimney which gave me an even weirder feeling than that of the garage door. Maybe it was just the color of the door looking off by comparison, but something about that left me wanting more out of that. Add to this, I struggled to picture him and his family living there.

I walked on over to the mouth of the driveway, which was slightly sloped from the garage door. Maybe it was an optical illusion. Maybe I really did have nothing to worry about and I was just going to drive myself far beyond the point of meshuggah. But something about it was going to drive me absolutely meshuggah regardless of what happened. I turned my attention to Christine, who strode on up to me with her hands tucked in her pockets and with a bewildered look on her face.

“Nobody lives here anymore, right?” I asked her once she came within earshot.

“As far as I know, no,” she replied. Cautiously, I strode up the driveway to the garage door. The panels were crisp and sharp, but the paint drooped a bit in a few places. I took a closer look to the one closest to my face.

Something buried underneath. I let my eyes wander down towards the base of the garage door itself to see it in full. Though it had been covered up, whoever did it did not do that well of a job, at least not for me, anyway.

The black outlines. The shape it made plus the angles.

The mere sight that haunted my own nightmares as well as that of my relatives.

“Just as I thought,” I muttered.

“What?” she asked me, and the chills ran up my spine. I took her by the hand and led her away from there.

“Alex, what is it?” she asked again, but I never replied. All I knew was I had to get away from there, and I had to get away from that particular part of the neighborhood as well. Our shoes padded on the pavement and that was the only noise I could hear. With a quick leap over the storm drains, we crossed the street from the house to the opposite corner; Christine stayed behind me as I led her away from there. At one point, I could feel her looking back, and I wished that I could completely tell her about what I was feeling. The thing is I had a hard enough time reading emotions on someone's face, let alone fessing up my own to someone like her.

We slowed down to a quick walked right before we reached the line of trees again. At least we were safe from the feeling that house gave unto me. Nevertheless, I still shivered and closed my coat to keep in the warmth. I was missing the warmth of those latkes her grandparents made for us.

I leaned back against the trunk of the tree closest to the sidewalk, and she gathered next to me as if we were hiding from something.

“God...” I breathed out, and I gazed up to the canopy of the trees over our heads. Though the leaves had gone for the autumn, the branches still protected us somewhat from the impending rain beyond us. I was not a man of prayer by any means but I could only pray that the rain spared us there in the trees for the time being.

“Makes me sick to think about,” I confessed to her with a shake of my head. “Regardless of whether or not he's your ex. It still makes my skin crawl just thinking about it.”

“What?” she demanded, and I licked my lips and ran my fingers through my hair.

“I really don't know if I can tell you,” I told her, “like I don't really know as to how to put it.”

“Well... start from the top,” she began. “That's what my parents' therapist says, just start from the beginning.”

“But... you said your ex was Jewish.”

“Yeah.”

“They lived here... not even a year, you said,” I continued.

“If I remember correctly, they moved here in July and they were gone once school was let out in June, so yeah, not even a year. I remember talking to him about it, too.”

I nibbled on my bottom lip yet again, that time because the mere suggestion only deepened the pit in my stomach.

“You know how you said you'd stand for me if something happened to me all because of my own heritage?” I recalled to her.

“Yeah,” she said, and she squinted her eyes at me as if she knew where I was going with this.

“It's so weird to me, because... you don't think of Nevada as sinking that low,” I admitted. “I mean—shit. 'Battle born.' Became a state in the face of the Civil War. You don't think of... something that hates me and your ex and probably wants the two of us dead, and maybe you, too, because you're associated with both him as well as me now. You don't think of—you know, that—as being here.”

Her mouth then dropped agape and her eyes widened. She brought a hand to her mouth, and all I could do was nod at her.

“Are you sure?” she asked me in a hushed voice.

“That fucking thing could be buried under six feet of black tar and I would still recognize it,” I told her in a single breath. “I knew what I saw, and I know for a fact that they're in that neighborhood.”

I peered out to the street. All the houses were shuttered and calm for the incoming rainstorm, but I still had my feelings no matter how they looked to me.

“Yeah, we should probably—” But before I could finish, she once again took me by the hand and yanked me away from there. Her hood fell right off her head as we ran as fast as could back to her grandparents' house with the wind and the rain at our backs; both picked up the pace as we reached the edge of the property and the welling up of the puddles in the front yard, and I was glad that we ran home when we did and as fast as we did, as well. The only exception was I never looked back to that house.

I didn't have to look back because I knew for a fact I was the menorah in the broken window.

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